More Than A Kiss
by Anna Denethorion
Summary: They shared one kiss. That was all. What were they going to do now? What in the world would Faramir and Eowyn do with their love for each other? Oh Valar...
1. Éowyn

**I**

Eowyn leaned against the windowsill. It overlooked Minas Tirith. Black dots--people--moved up and down the white streets, their clothing a ghastly contrast. Someone knocked on the door. Her mind was whirling with emotion. "Come in," Eowyn said.

The door opened and a ten-year-old lass spilled in. It was Etta, the little hand-maiden King Elessar gave to Eowyn. Her black hair covered her eyes. Etta brushed it back. Several unruly strands stuck to her forehead with sweat. "Lady!" Etta cried. "Lady! I just saw--" Etta broke into hysterical laughter. Eowyn couldn't help but smile.

"What is it, Etta dear?"

"I saw Lord Eomer and Lothliriel of Dol Amroth kissing in the garden below us, Lady. Queen Arwen saw it too. She bade me come and tell you, Lady."

Eowyn broadened her smile. "That sounds wonderful Etta," Eowyn said. "I expect there will be more feasting in a few weeks or so."

Etta laughed some more and went off to gossip among the servants, both Rohirric and Gondorian.

_Why can't my life be as smooth as Aragorn's and Arwen's, Eomer and Lothliriel? _Eowyn thought. She plucked at the necklace Queen Arwen had given her. It was just one kiss, one sweet kiss 'neath the sunlit sky. _And nothing more... _Eowyn thought sadly. No more hint of affection from Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor. _His mind is now saturated with the affairs of Gondor_, she reasoned. Eowyn unclasped the necklace to look at it.

It was a glass in the shape of a tear-drop. Inside it was the White Tree made of mithril. It was beautiful. It hung on a slender silver chain. She put the necklace on again and slipped it neath her dress.

The sun made specks of orange and amber on the floor. Eowyn flung her woolen cloak over her slender shoulders and opened the door. She wanted to be alone. She told the guard outside her door, "If anyone is looking for me, tell them I am sleeping and do not wish to be disturbed."

"Aye, m'lady," the guard said.

The library was empty. Scrolls adorned every dusty shelf. She found a scroll about the history of Gondor. She sat down and started reading. A servant came and took away her cloak, and poured her a mug of ale. Eowyn thanked the servant. She then found she was not alone.

Sitting on a chair at a table opposite her was Faramir. The sun lit his hair brighter than the bright red-gold it was. His arms were folded on the table. He was sleeping. She motioned to a servant.

"Pray tell," said Lady Eowyn, "what is the steward Lord Faramir doing here?"

"He comes here every day, my lady," the young lad said. "He says it is the only place where he will not be hindered by the affairs of the White City."

_Ah_, Eowyn. _He seeks asylum as do I_.

Faramir awoke. He blinked his eyes and yawned. Eowyn blessed all muscle he moved. Then, Faramir saw her. He smiled and walked over to her table.

"My lady," he spoke softly.

"My lord," she whispered.

They were silent. _He's embarrassed. He's embarressed by what happened in the garden. He is regretting kissing me. That is why I have not seen him for so long_, Eowyn thought. She felt a blush touch her cheeks.

"How have you been, lady?" Faramir asked.

"Fine, lord."

"Did you hear? Your brother and Lothliriel..." Faramir stopped. His cheeks turned red, too. He cleared his throat. "I expect they may wed... _ahem_ soon."

"Good news isn't it?" Eowyn forced a smile. Faramir gave a wry chuckle. He patted his flat and muscular belly.

"With all these feasting, I'm getting fat."

Eowyn rolled her eyes and laughed. Faramir looked embarrased again, suddenly. He stood up, bowed, mumbled a farewell, and slipped out of the doors like a thread slipping through an eye of a needle.

_Valar! _Eowyn thought. _I don't suppose I'd be seeing him anytime soon. _


	2. Faramir

**II**

Faramir hated himself. _She thinks me childish_, he thought. He replayed the scene in the library over and over again. It mocked him and sneered at him.

_By the Valar_, he thought, gripping the stone railing of the veranda. _Father was right. I am not ready for love. _

He thought of his father. When he did, he rememberedoil and heat and a singed hairandflames.Flames that burnt high and left him smelly for two days. Faramir shivered at the memory. He remembered how the cold oil touched his forehead, how he felt the wood stick into his shoulder-blades.

Faramir remembered his feverish dream. He dream of his mother, Finduilas of Dol Amroth, Lothliriel's aunt. He remembered her red-gold hair, so much like his own. He remembered her grey eyes and ruby-red lips that shamed the red rose. His father spoke seldom of her. But Faramir knew. Faramir had killed her.

They were on the way to Dol Amroth, to visit his uncle Imrahil. Bandits swooped down upon them. Finduilas had covered her younger son's tiny body lest the bandits batter his body. He could see her mouth clenched shut, so she won't scream, lest she frighten her four-year-old son.

A tear rolled off Faramir's nose and dripped off his nose. It made a black spot on the grey stone railing.

"Now, m'lord," came a soft and gentle voice. "Why do you cry?"

Faramir looked up and saw Queen Arwen smiling at him. Her Elven beauty surpassed all the fair maidens in Minas Tirith, except for Éowyn. But, then again, Éowyn was not of Minas Tirith. She was of Rohan.

_A wild shield-maiden of Rohan_, he thought. He remembered that day two months ago, when he had kissed her. He could almost hear the people say, "There goes the steward with a wild shield-maiden from the north!"

"'Tis nothing, my queen," Faramir said. They were silent as they looked out the window. Faramir could see the smoke of a thousand fireplaces, warming up to cook the evening meal.

Then Arwen spoke: "Are you thinking about someone special, Prince Faramir?"

_Damn! How did she come so close? _Faramir wondered. _Surely she isn't from the House of Húrin?_

Faramir opened his mouth, ready to say, "Nay." but he thought better of it. Everyone knows you do not lie to an Elf. "Perhaps, m'lady," he mumbled, finally. "Perhaps."

"Lady Éowyn?"

There are just some times where Faramir hated Elves and their ability to see into a mortal's soul. It was like their eyes would spill into your mind, picking up little details that have been shelved over the years. He saw no point in lying. So he told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

"Aye, m'lady. I am thinking of the fair Lady Éowyn, who is fairer than any flower that has blossomed in the Field of Pelennor," Faramir burst out.

Queen Arwen smiled knowingly. She took Faramir's arm and they strolled slowly down the stairs. "You seek to woo the lass?" Queen Arwen said.

"Aye." Faramir blushed redder than before. "Perhaps you could teach me a few paltry tricks, your ladyship. If that is within your league." Faramir pulled his arm out of Queen Arwen's grip. The queen turned and looked to the window, the sunset bathing her snow-white skin orange.

"I _can _teach you, Faramir." There was a twinkle in Queen Arwen's blue eyes. "But I _won't_. Every lady is different, Steward. To win the lady's blessed affection, you have to learn for yourself." Queen Arwen curtsied. "If you will excuse me, King Elessar is expecting me for supper."

Faramir watched the queen disappear around a corner. He rolled his sky-blue eyes. _Women!_

Some movement caught his eye. He saw Lady Éowyn walking briskly up the stone stairs. She did not see him, and he pretended not to see her.


	3. The Wedding

**III**

_I saw him_, Éowyn thought, smiling. _I saw him but he didn't see me. _She plucked at the necklace again. Éowyn could still see the slightly tousled red-gold hair, and how he had stared out the window. She could see the shine in his pale-blue eyes.

Right now, Faramir was standing infront of Lothliriel and Éomer. He looked rather bored with all the formality as he read out from a worn leather book. Faramir looked as if he could snap the book shut and recite the vows from memory.

"Do you, Éomer son of Éomund of Rohan, take Lothliriel Imrahil's daughter of Dol Amroth as your bride? To love her in sickness and in health, living and in dying, and to the world's ending, 'til death do you part? What say you, Éomer son of Éomund of Rohan?"

Éomer cast a nervous smile at his bride-to-be. Some people sniggered, which was silenced immedietly by others. Éowyn began to dream. She dream Faramir and her were standing infront of King Elessar as he read the vows. She rubbed the pendant between her thumb and forefinger.

"I, Éomer son of Éomund of Rohan, take Lothliriel Imrahil's daughter of Dol Amroth as my bride. To love her in sickness and in health, living and in dying, and to the world's ending, 'til death do us part. So say I, Éomer son of Éomund of Rohan."

_'Til death do us part_, Éowyn mouthed. How she loved that phrase! It was so romantic. Those very words will bind lover to lover until death do them part. Sometimes, she could see her parents standing infront of the king of Rohan, saying those words. She pictured her mother, Theodwyn, in a fine white dress. Éowyn knew what the dress looked like, for she still had it folded in a chest back in Edoras.

Faramir repeated the vows to Lothliriel. Lothliriel repeated the vows. She kept stopping and giggling, sending roars of laughter from the men followed by annoyed hushes from the women.

"From this hour henceforth," Faramir said, looking relieved, "I pronounce you man and wife."

Lothliriel dropped her bouquet of wild flowers and kissed Éomer. _Faramir looks uncomfortable_, Éowyn noticed. _Like I am_. Éomer and Lothliriel remained in that passionate embrace longer than anyone expected.

Suddenly, a little child from the back rows stood up and shouted, "Kiss her! Don't kill her!" Everyone laughed and there was a sharp smack. The tyke gave a cry of pain and surprise. Everyone laughed again. Éowyn tried to laugh. She said to herself, "Faramir can do both to me."

Faramir could see Éowyn in the front row as he read the vows. The words in the book had faded with age, but he could still see the words. _Father once held this book_, he thought as he read, "What say you, Éomer son of Éomund of Rohan?"

And then that painful moment where his cousin Lothliriel kiss Éomer. He felt like someone had shoved an orc-dagger into his ribs. A blade with orc-poison. Because he could feel something warm rising in his throat.

Lothliriel has always been beautiful since she was a little lass. She was about two years older than Faramir. Lothliriel had her father's black hair and sea-grey eyes. Lord Denethor had always hoped that Boromir would someday marry Lothliriel, keeping the leinege of Gondor and Dol Amroth within the family.

But Boromir never liked Lothliriel, as Lothliriel never liked Boromir. "That Lothliriel!" Boromir would sputter if her name was mentioned. Boromir had never really forgiven Lothliriel for putting abranch from a thorn bush in his bed. Faramir wondered if he had forgiven her before he died. But he'll never know...

Like he'll never know why his mother sacrificed her life for him...

Or why his father decided to burn him...

Or why this and why that.

Faramir gave a small smile. Perhaps Lady Arwen would have her uses after all!


	4. Faramir's Demons

A/N: I apologize for the mistake with Lothiriel's name.

**IIII**

_Something was sticking into his back. Faramir could hear someone rambling on. Someone grabbed his arm. Strong arms carried him. He moaned in pain. What was happening? Couldn't the orcs leave him alone to die in peace? There was screaming, shouting, and then, warmth. A warmth that was growing all around him._

_Suddenly, his head slammed into something hard. He moaned in pain. _

_"Do not take my son from me!" someone shouted. Faramir's ears perked up. He tried to open his eyes but he was so tired he could not. _

_There was more rambling. Faramir saw himself on the edge of a dark abyss. He was falling. Wind rushed into his face. _

_And then, he hit the bottom. His dark world swam and darkness took him. _

Faramir gave a great cry and sat up in his bed. His ears rang with the sudden silence. He was panting. His head was throbbing. His wound, caused by an accursed Southron arrow, caused his chest to ache. The arrow was stopped by a rib. It was still in the process of healing. Mithrandir suspects that there was poison on the arrow-head.

The Steward brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. He got out of bed. The cold ground seemed to bite and gnaw at his soles. This was the first night in days that he had actually slept peacefully until that confounded dream came along.

_I must have had a wicked childhood_, Faramir reasoned.

He opened the door. The corridoor was bathed in shades of blue and white. He walked barefooted to the veranda, where he had Queen Arwen had talked several days before.

Faramir felt full from the feast earlier. Éomer and Lothiriel's marriage feast boasted all sorts of delicacies; Rohirric and Gondorian. Faramir, with his unsastifiable hunger, piled his plate high with the vittles. Well, except for the blood-pudding which he has detested since he was a young lad.

_Boromir loved blood-pudding_, he thought. Faramir remembered the times when they were younger, they snuck into the kitchen and stole food. When their father out, he thought Faramir had tricked Boromir into the stunt. Denethor whipped Faramir until blood ran like the Anduin.

Faramir used his arms to support his weight, his long and knobby fingers clutching the railing like an anchor. He felt drowsy, his head swam. He looked behind him, and around him. Finally, content that there was no one there, he shouted a swear.

It made him feel so much better.

"Go away," he said into the lonely darkness. He wanted this demon to go away. To stop bothering him. He saw his memories flicker before him, while talking to King Elessar. He saw his mother smiling, the sun bathing her skin. He saw Boromir laughing at some daft joke with him. He saw his father laughing with him.

Which happened rarely.

These happy memories stayed with him, but the minute he climbed into his bed, _it _attacked him. He saw his mother's battered body lying in an abandoned quarrie. He saw Boromir giving him disappointed looks. And he saw his father flogging him.

Faramir's back has a mixture of scars; those from battle and those made by his father. Sometimes, he felt the scars burn into him.

Right now, Faramir looked and felt a good deal older than his thirty-five years. He felt almost as old as King Elessar. He could not and would not sleep. He didn't want to face his memories again. Faramir did his best to avoid them. He avoided the garden where his mother would stroll. He avoided the Great Hall where his father used to sit alone. He avoided the stables where he and Boromir used to play.

But to no avail.

Faramir buried his face in his hands, using his elbows to support his weight.

A sword rang in the darkness. "Who goes there?"

Faramir turned and saw a guard glaring at him. It was Barond, the guard.

"'Tis only me," Faramir told the guard. "Faramir."

The guard stepped into the light and let out a sigh of relief and sheathed his sword. He bowed."Ha! It's only you, m'lord. I nearly mistook you for a thief! I'd suggest you go back to your bed, lest anyone mistake you again. They might not ask, the next time."

"You're right Barond," Faramir said. He bid the guard good night and the guard said,

"Good morning. It's good morning. We've just passed into the first hour of the day."

"So be it," Faramir said and went into his room. He pulled the blanket onto the floor and kicked it to one side. Then, exhausted, he threw himself onto the bed.


	5. The Intruder and the Attacker

A/N: Sorry the last chapter was so short. I just wanted to give everybody an insight on what Faramir was battling with. Anyway, I'll try to make up for the last one. Keep reviewing please ! Yours, Anna.

**P.S: WARNING! This chapter is _rated _PG-13 for sensuality and mild language.**

**V**

Faramir was dozing off in the library. His meeting with the Warden was in twenty minutes. He had just finished as session with King Elessar. Now, the twenty minutes were his. His. _His..._

"M'lord?" a soft and gentle voice broke through his hazy mind like a ray of light. Faramir raised his bleary eyes. Then, he jumped and used his knuckles to rub his eyes. He looked up again. It was Éowyn.

_Very suave Faramir, _he thought. _The love of your life comes into the library--alone--and you're dozing off. On the verge of snoring, maybe. Very suave, very suave. _

"Lady!" he said. "I uh... I mean uh... I mean..." Éowyn gave a small smile that made Faramir blush. "I mean," he stammered again. Then, Faramir coughed and pinched himself to wake himself. "Good afternoon," he said. "Sit." He pointed to a chair opposite him. Éowyn sat down.

Faramir was dozing off again when Éowyn's voice startled him: "I'm leaving for Edoras tomorrow."

"What?" He must have jumped six feet in the air.

"I'm leaving for Edoras tomorrow. Éomer and Lothiriel misses my presence. And I miss Edoras anyhow..." Éowyn's voice trailed off into a distance.Her fingers trailed across the table infront of her. She looked at his face for any emotions that might betray his feelings. His pale blue eyes stared straight into hers.

"Oh," Faramir said.

_Oh? _he thought angrily. _Oh? Is that all you can say, Faramir? Your true love tells you she is leaving for Edoras and you say 'oh'?_

"You can come and visit us anytime," she said. "I'm sure Éomer and Lothiriel won't mind..." Éowyn wrapped a lock of hair around her forefinger. The hair caught the light and glinted gold.

"That'll be nice," he said, feeling something rise in his throat. "I'm sure King Elessar and Queen Arwen won't mind if you come and visit Minas Tirith again. You could come as an envoy of Rohan!" he added brightly. Faramir plastered on a fake smile and clenched his fist.

_I know that fake smile anywhere... _Éowyn thought and plastered on a fake smile too. She was disappointed. She had expected Faramir to get onto his knees and plead with her not to go. And finally, "I love you, my darling, the passion of my loins!" and all that. And then, the kiss...

_You have a sick mind, Éowyn daughter of Éomund! _she told herself.

Suddenly, Faramir remembered he had an appointment with the Warden. He stood up. "I am sorry, m'lady. I have to talk to the Warden for a while..." He bowed and turned on his heel.

_Maybe he is going to ask the Warden to convince me not to leave! _she thought happily.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Éowyn lay in bed that night. She was tired. No... a stronger word. _Weary_. She could hear the guard tramping up and down outside. This was the sixtieth time tonight he tramped past her door. Her thin white curtains were fluttering wildly in the late spring breeze. The moonlight made a patch of white on the ground. Other than that, the room was submerged in darkness. Little Étta wanted to light a candle but Éowyn bade her not to.

Éowyn was about to fall asleep when she heard someone groan outside her window. Outside her window? It was a forty-feet drop to the ground! She remembered that under the window was a ledge, one foot across. Éowyn looked around frantically for something to defend herself with. She ran over to the blade that hung on the wall. She pulled it out of its sheath. The blade was blunt. She bit her lip in disappointment. Éowyn hid in the shadows next to the window, every muscle tense.

A dark shadow covered the white patch of moonlight. Her intruder set a foot in... and then another. Éowyn prepared to strike.

"Éowyn?" Faramir whispered. His scraped knee was stinging. _What if she thinks I'm coming to rape her? _he thought. Something in the corner caught his eye. It glinted. A sword! He stood up, shivering slightly. Blood rushed along the old scars and made him tingle with fear.

There was a silver flash. Faramir acted quickly. He caught his attacker's wrist. With a quick twist, the sword fell to the carpeted ground with a muffled thud. She opened her eyes and saw...

Oh no...

The intruder was quick, quicker than Éowyn had expected. And he was strong too. She attempted to kick the intruder in the groin. But the intruder hauled her over his shoulder. The wind was knocked out of her when she landed on the ground.

Faramir gave a short cough, thanking Boromir for teaching him that throw. He was ready to apprehend the intruder that invaded Éowyn's room.

"Faramir! You ass!"

Faramir brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. Oh no...

"Éowyn?" he whispered loudly.

With a quick wriggle, Éowyn squirmed out of his grip and stood up. He erected himself right.

"Damn you!" Éowyn said. "Why did you crawl out the window?"

"Amron is on duty tonight," he replied. Sweat stung his eyes. He swore under his breath. He couldn't believe he had just apprehended Lady Éowyn.

"Oh." No wonder the sound of the guard's marching was so loud! Amron was infamous for his fierce monopoly over the hallways. "I'm sorry, Faramir. I thought you were--"

"I know. I thought you were--"

"It's alright."

They grinned at each other, nervously. Éowyn could feel her head swimming and her ears ringing. So could Faramir. He has never felt this way before, though he has loved her for over two months now. His heart was thumping wildly.

_She feels the same way I do, too! _he thought.

"Éowyn," he breathed and gathered her into his strong arms. He brought his lips to hers but Éowyn put a finger up.

Éowyn whispered in his ear, "Are you an extremist, Faramir?"

_Ohhh... _he thought, catching her notion.

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "You must be tired, m'lady. Why don't you get into bed? You have a long trip tomorrow."

Éowyn smiled to herself as she turned toward the bed. She could hear the rustle of fabric as Faramir undressed himself... or was he climbing out of the window? Éowyn slipped her dress over her head. She climbed into her great bed, facedown.

She was beginning to fall asleep when she felt someone get onto the bed. Éowyn shivered with delight. She turned over and their lips met.

Both were thinking of what Éomer would do to them if he found out...


	6. The End

A/N: I'm sorry it's going to end to abruptly. Thanks for all the reviews! And thanks to all the people who ARE going to review.

A new story is forming in my mind... so HANG ON THERE, MATES!

**VII**

He kissed her.

Gently at first.

Then, they gripped each other like they would never let go.

Faramir drew back and stared into Éowyn's eyes.

"You _will _come back?" he asked, caressing her eyebrows with his hand.

"As soon as I send word," Éowyn replied. "As soon as I send word from Edoras, you _must _come immedietly."

"I will," Faramir said and grinned broadly, his teeth catching the first light of the day. Then, his face fell. "What is Éomer doesn't approve of me?" Faramir remembered the tall and muscular figure who had raised an eyebrow when he looked down on the Steward.

Éowyn gripped him tighter. "He _will _approve. He _must _approve," she whispered. "Oh Valar, I love you, Faramir."

"I love you too, Éowyn."

Little Étta came into the room. She smiled when she saw her mistress. "Lady," Étta said. Faramir gave Éowyn one last kiss before releasing her. "The people are waiting, Lady," Étta replied.

Faramir followed both of them down the stairs to the Gates of Minas Tirith. King Elessar and Queen Arwen stood there, ready to bid Lady Éowyn farewell. A horse stood ready for Éowyn. Éothain, Éomer's trusted friend, was there to escort Éowyn back to Edoras.

Éowyn climbed onto her horse. She looked back at Lord Faramir. He stood there, looking a little forlorn and a little sad. But he had this small smile on his face. Éowyn smiled back.

"Are you ready, Lady?" Éothain asked her. She nodded and they slowly trotted out of Minas Tirith.

Faramir watched her go, her gold hair stirring gently in the warm breeze. His heart felt lighter than it had in days. _Years _even. Faramir turned and walked back up to his apartments.

------------------------------------------------------

Faramir went to his bed that night. He seemed to be afraid of sleeping. He bit his lip and climbed into bed. He stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the demons to come and ravage his memories.

But strange.

They didn't.

Faramir gave a triumphant whoop and punched his fist in the air.

He lay on his chest and closed his eyes. The demons were quiet tonight.


End file.
